Parenthood: What Doesn't Kill Us
by Fati Sasspants
Summary: Splinter is calm, wise, and full of patience. If anyone stands a chance at raising four turtle toddlers without going mad, it's him. Right? Intended to be a series of unrelated oneshots, ranging in length and genre.
1. Tall tales

Donatello ran up to him with such urgency in his young eyes that Splinter thought for certain something terrible had happened. His mind automatically started pulling up every scenario possible, ranging from likely to very unlikely. With young ones afoot, just being prepared was never enough; one had to be almost be paranoid.

"Master Splinter?"

"My son, you're shaking. What is wrong?"

"I know I'm not supposed to listen to Raph, on account'a he tells so many lies, but…" Splinter bit down hard, teeth clicking softly. It was all he could do to keep from sighing. "He said, if you drink water before you take a nap, when you lay down, it don't stay in your tummy. He says, since you're layin' down, it just floats around and goes all over your body…" he paused, clearly shaken.

"He told you that?"

A nod. "An then… then it goes to your lungs, an then you can't beathe no more. Leo told us he was lying, but…I jus' wanted to make sure."

"Raphael, much like Michelangelo, is very creative…only he utilizes his creativity differently." Donatello nodded as though he understood, but Splinter still sensed a feeling of worry about him. "Despite what he may say, Raphael does _not_ know everything. The water you consume does not roam your body. It stays in your stomach, of that I am certain."

He still looked apprehensive. "So…I'm not gonna die?"

"You have many, many years ahead of you."

"Whew!" he said, wiping imaginary beads of sweat from his brow. "That's a relief."

"At this age, little of what Raphael says holds any truth."

Donatello surprised him by asking, "but what about Leo, Master? Can I still believe Leo?" his brow creased. _"You_ know everything, right?"

"Not even_ I _know_ everything,_" he revealed with a gentle chuckle.

"But isn't telling the truth important?"

"Yes, but one might not always tell the truth, so it is equally important for you to learn to exercise your better judgement."

Donatello stayed a while longer, and they talked, about this and that and all in between. Come manhood, Splinter expected great things from him—from them all. How could he not? Already they were all brilliant in their own way. Finally, with Donatello seeming pacified, he said to him, "now go finish your nap." No sooner had he uttered those words did a very familiar-looking turtle appear in his doorway, followed by a very familiar-sounding 'eep.' Even without the mask, Splinter could easily tell them apart, often times without the aid of body language or voice.

"Michelangelo. You've been speaking with Raphael?" Splinter ventured.

Michelangelo nodded vigorously, then said, "hey, why's Donny in here?" Then, excitedly, "is he tattlin', too? Raph's in trouble, isn't he?"

Splinter sighed, looked to Donatello, and beckoned Michelangelo forth. "No. No one is in trouble...yet. Come, tell me what your brother told you."

"Izzit safe?" he squeaked, eyes darting to all the dark corners.

"Tell'em what Raph told you, Mikey," Donatello urged, grabbing his wrist to pull him in. "It's safe."

"Master, is my head _really_ gonna s'plode? _Raph_ said there's a monster that lives in the sewers, and that he _hates_ turtles, the funny ones most of all. He said if I laughed too much, the monster'd make my head e'splode. He told me not to tell, 'cause it would make you scared, but_ I_ think he's full of baloney!"

* * *

**_The thing about the water? My brother told me that when I was a kid. From ages six to at LEAST ten, I refused to drink anything unless I absolutely had to. I was very often dehydrated as a result. Also, I wasn't very bright. Not too crazy about the title, if anyone thinks of a better one, let me know?_**


	2. Persistence, thy name is Mikey?

"Say it!" Demanding.

"Finish your lunch, so that you may join your brothers."

"I don't wanna." Hopeful. "I want you to say it."

"Story time is later. Eat."

"Pleeeeease?" Downright annoying.

There were many things Splinter disliked. Rain, the putrid smell of sewage heated by the summer sun, the sound of early-morning garbage men making rounds, and lunch time. During the morning, things always seemed brighter and more do-able. The turtles, docile from just being roused, would go about their chores and then play when finished, awaiting a sparring partner. Come lunch time, however, it seemed that all Hell would break loose.

Leonardo would require constant supervision to ensure that whatever it was he felt he wasn't fully gasping was perfectly executed, all the while Donatello would rattle off question after question: _'can I have this?' 'what's that?' 'how does this work?'_ or the occasional,_ 'I'm not sure, but I think I did something bad. You'd better come take a look.'_ Being children, they quickly grew bored of any activity lasting longer than half an hour—an hour, if he was lucky, and frankly, he felt himself growing ragged and needing to enforce more naps and time outs than should have been necessary. When lunch was finished, the natural order would be restored, and he would breathe a sigh of relief. Raphael would be content to draw and Donatello and Leonardo would read together; Michelangelo would entertain himself other ways, more often than not naming his fingers, giving them back stories, and playing with the much the same a human child might dolls.

Michelangelo was a rock. When he set his mind on something he absolutely wanted, he would fight tooth and nail for it. An admirable quality in some. The sheer determination in his eyes was astounding. A proper scolding should have been in order for all the backtalk, but Splinter found himself hesitating. Sometimes it was easier to give in to demands. "If I say it, you must promise me that you will finish your lunch, and then do something productive."

"What's 'productive' mean?"

"It means using your time wisely. Busy yourself with something creative and safe. And quiet," he added.

"Deal." Easier said than done, Splinter thought, but his compliance was appreciated. "So, you will?"

Somewhere, Leonardo was attempting to referee a wrestling match between Donatello and Raphael. Knees and elbows were getting scraped, useable items trampled, and egos bruised. Then, who knew what. If only he could be in four places at one time. If only...

"Yes," Splinter answered wearily, his resolve crumbling like stale bread. Why Michelangelo loved this particular line from the story, he would never know. He hardly told the story, since it was a mouthful, but it was one the boys often requested. Whether it was that they genuinely enjoyed the story, or that they loved to hear him rattle off the main character's ridiculously long name, he did not know, and getting Michelangelo to sit through the entire story was a problem in itself. He would often lose interest and wander off during the middle, and come when his favorite part came up. Splinter wondered if he even knew how the story ended. He sighed, bracing himself.

"Kin-chan came running…" Mikey began, a smile spreading across his face. "There, started it for you."

"Kin-chan came running…'" Splinter repeated, taking in a deep breath. "'Waa! Waa!' he cried. Jugemu-jugemu Gokonosurikire Kaijarisuigyo-no Suigyomatsu Unraimatsu Furaimatsu Kunerutokoroni-sumutokoro Yaburakojino-burakoji Paipopaipo-paiponoshuringan Shuringanno-gurindai Gurindaino-ponpokopino-ponpokonano Chokyumeino-chosuke hit me and gave me a lump on the head!'"

At this, Michelangelo laughed heartily, as he always did. "Go on!"

"'What?' said the mother. 'Our Jugemu-jugemu Gokonosurikire Kaijarisuigyo-no Suigyomatsu Unraimatsu Furaimatsu Kunerutokoroni-sumutokoro Yaburakojino-burakoji Paipopaipo-paiponoshuringan Shuringanno-gurindai Gurindaino-ponpokopino-ponpokonano Chokyumeino-chosuke hit you and gave you a lump on your head? I'm so sorry! Honey, did you hear that? It seems that Jugemu-jugemu Gokonosurikire Kaijarisuigyo-no Suigyomatsu Unraimatsu Furaimatsu Kunerutokoroni-sumutokoro Yaburakojino-burakoji Paipopaipo-paiponoshuringan Shuringanno-gurindai Gurindaino-ponpokopino-ponpokonano Chokyumeino-chosuke hit Kin-chan here, and gave him a lump on his head!'

"The father said: 'Really? Our Jugemu-jugemu Gokonosurikire Kaijarisuigyo-no Suigyomatsu Unraimatsu Furaimatsu Kunerutokoroni-sumutokoro Yaburakojino-burakoji Paipopaipo-paiponoshuringan Shuringanno-gurindai Gurindaino-ponpokopino-ponpokonano Chokyumeino-chosuke did that? We'd better call Jugemu-jugemu Gokonosurikire Kaijarisuigyo-no Suigyomatsu Unraimatsu Furaimatsu Kunerutokoroni-sumutokoro Yaburakojino-burakoji Paipopaipo-paiponoshuringan Shuringanno-gurindai Gurindaino-ponpokopino-ponpokonano Chokyumeino-chosuke in here and sort this out right now. Can I see this lump, Kin-chan?

The small boy exclaimed, 'It took so long to explain, the lump's gone down already!'"

Grabbing at his sides, Mikey fell to the ground, overcome with laughter. The others came running, curious to see what was so darn funny.

"Did he make you tell the Jugemu-jugemu story again?" Don asked, regarding his brother with an exasperated look while Leo poked at him with his toe.

"You still ain't done, Mikey?" Raph asked, smirking.

"We had a deal, Michelangelo," Splinter reminded. He reached down, scooping Mikey up by his underarms. "Now, finish your food," he said, and Mikey did, without another word.

Minutes later, Splinter let loose a sigh of relief as he watched the back of four shells happily bounce off. He would need to work on his disciplinary skills. This could not go on. At this rate, he wouldn't make it another year.

* * *

**_If you didn't catch on, Jugemu Jugemu is basically the Japanese version of Tikki Tikki Tembo/Ricky Ticky Tembo. I loved the story as a kid, and decided to incorporate it. Obviously, it is not mine. Let it stand for the record that I take no claims in owning it. Also, I suggest you check out videos of kids saying the tongue twister on you tube. It's adorable! I *think* got the quotation marks right. _**


	3. Smelly brotherly moment

"What if we don't find him, Master?" Leo asked.

"We will," Splinter replied, moving carefully through the tunnels, in search of his missing son. The frightened wails bounced and echoed off the walls, making it difficult to track it back to the source; he felt as though he were the proverbial rat in the maze.

"I donno," Mikey said, "Look at this place. We could walk forever and never even come close." Donny frowned and pinched him. "Ow!"

Don whispered, "Shut up. If Master Splinter says we'll find him, we'll find him."

It was imperative that they find Raphael before a surface dweller became any the wiser. He could see it now: a grate peeling back, blinding light spilling into the tunnel. Raphael, sitting in a pile of murky water, bawling his eyes out. Helpless. Splinter forced himself to concentrate on navigating. "Keep your ears open, boys. We cannot afford to make another wrong turn."

Donatello, Leonardo, and Michelangelo tagged along behind him, double checking routs adjacent to the main one they were traveling. Had they been older, and more familiar with the territory, he would have let them go out on their own. Four searching for one stood a much better chance, but he wasn't about to risk losing all of them.

"There!" Mikey called, pointing. "Over there!"

Leo stepped forward cautiously. "Raph?"

The crying stopped. A small, round shadow sniffed loudly. It could be seen leaning forward, as though to peer through the darkness. "Mikey?" it asked. "Leo?"

The three ran up ahead, helping Raphael to his feet. He sniffed again and rubbed at his eyes, swollen and bloodshot. Mikey hugged him and patted him on the head. For once, Raphael didn't pull away and brandish a fist above his head.

"I thought I was gonna be lost forever," he said. "I don't remember anything. I woke up here and it was cold and wet and I didn' know how to get home."

No one giggled or smirked or made a move. Splinter was thankful his boys knew the difference between crying when you didn't get your way, and crying out of absolute fear. It made him proud that even Michelangelo was keeping a straight face.

"I'm afraid you've had another episode," Splinter said gently, taking the child's face in his hands and turning it over. There didn't appear to be any wounds. "Are you all right?"

Raph nodded quietly, head bowed in embarrassment.

"It seems we have again underestimated your ability to leave the lair, even while asleep..." he sighed, placing a firm hand on Raphael's shoulder. "We are all learning, Raphael. We will figure this out." He stood back up and straightened his robe out. "Let us return home," he said, ushering Mikey, who was second most likely to go missing, down the tunnel. Donny followed a moment later. "Raphael, Leonardo."

Leo slid his hand into Raphs, who still had his head bowed. "Come on, Raph," he whispered.

"I bet you're gonna make fun of me now, huh?" Raph asked in a small voice.

"No. Maybe tomorrow," Leo said.

"I knew it. Jerk."

Raph yawned and lazily followed after Leo like a dog on a leash. Walking turned to shuffling, and shuffling eventually became a heavy leaning with minimal walking.

"Raph," Leo said, pushing his half-asleep brother off him. "You can't lean on me, come on. Get off."

Raph frowned sleepily. "Why not?"

"You smell," Leo complained. "Really bad."

"Shut up."

"I'm serious. Get off!"

Splinter fought the urge to chuckle. It was a close to 'getting along' as things were going to get. "Boys, come along now."

* * *

**_My Raphael is a sleepwalker. Aw, smelly brotherly moment. And sorry I haven't been updating. Nothing has been officially *stopped*, I've just been very, very busy.  
_**


End file.
